Tuesday, February 25, 2014

"You don't marry a noise girl. You marry the girl who likes twee. You wear cute sundresses and like me and give me blowjobs." I guess moving was supposed to solve things for me. I don't know what I expected. Something better? It's bullshit thinking moving would fix your problems. They're still there. Holy shit are they still there. Only this time you're alone and broke with your problems. So take that anxious directionless mess you were at home and throw it into a massive city where everything is far away and it's 27F and you don't have anyone to get drunk with to forget you are an anxious directionless mess and you are unemployed. That's what moving to solve your problems is like. Or at least the first week is.

He left Saturday morning. For once I wish he had left something physical. A bruise or a stain. Something more than the boxers I asked for.